


Compression

by SilverRollu



Series: Turbulence AU [2]
Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coping, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sometimes functioning is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRollu/pseuds/SilverRollu
Summary: Asch buries his face in his shoulder, breathing in. Luke cannot move; his brain is still catching up.“I love you,” Asch says. And then, “it’s okay.”





	Compression

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't decided where this lies in the timeline quite yet, but it certainly takes place before Turbulence. 
> 
> Luke and Asch are both hurting, but they do their best.

Luke wonders if this phenomena has a name, the one that starts in your ears right before they pop. The sensation of moving from one altitude to another, the pressure in ones head, the temporary loss of sound like you’ve been submerged in water.

His brain feels like that, but different. Like static, whispering in his ears and spreading throughout his whole skull, muddled. Thinking feels like wading through molasses. It’s like a limb falling asleep but worse, because it’s not his leg, pushed into an uncomfortable position under his body for hours, but his entire brain and that can’t be right. His brain can’t be failing, sluggishly falling behind like a computer so lagged down by viruses that it can no longer process simple instructions. And how could he? If someone were to say a simple “hello,” he’s sure the greeting would short circuit through his eardrums, fizzling into nothingness.

That can’t be right.

Luke doesn’t realize something has changed until he feels a hand at his shoulder, gently pushing, and his mind takes a moment to catch up. A soft touch, a dip in the bed beside him. In the flurry of mixed signals and backfiring synapses, he manages to remember who it is.

“Here,” Asch says. Luke blinks into full consciousness. A bottle of water appears in his line of sight, and he studies it with his eyes, taking stock of the little details but failing to hold on to them. “Drink this.”

He takes it. If feels like a herculean task but he takes it, gingerly removes the cap and guzzles the water down like it’s the drink of the gods. Maybe it is. The part of his brain that tells him the little facts and pieces has shutdown for the day, buried in a string of static.

About half the bottle is gone when he’s done. He screws the lid on tight and lingers there, staring at his fingers. The water slushes slightly at the sides, leaving clear pearls in the plastic ridges to drip slow, careful lines back into the pool below. Luke imagines being in a pool, drifting to the bottom. It’d explain why everything feels muffled. Part of him decides he’s glad not to be in there.

“Do you want me to leave?”

He considers it. He’s adjusted to the dip in the bed, to the warmth of the body at his side. They are not touching. Their shoulders are mere inches apart but they are not touching, and Luke’s fingers loosen on the bottle, causing more pearls to drip at a new angle. He feels like one of those droplets, a misshapen pearl, slipping away. At length, he shakes his head.

“Okay.” A pause. And then, “do you need anything?”

This is too much to consider at once. Luke finds himself shaking his head again. It feels heavy, weighed down by the… whatever that feeling was before, the one he can’t name, that happens on airplanes or long car rides or at the bottom of a pool, begging for air. If he opens his mouth, just a little, maybe he’d find what he’s looking for. Instead he drops his heavy, buzzing head onto Asch’s shoulder.

Perhaps Asch takes it as a sign, for after a string of movements that Luke isn’t too keen to follow, he’s suddenly enveloped in warm arms. He’s lying on his side and arms are embracing him from behind, and the water bottle is perched precariously between two of his fingers, seconds away from falling.

Asch buries his face in his shoulder, breathing in. Luke cannot move; his brain is still catching up. “I love you,” Asch says. And then, “it’s okay.”

Luke places his hands on top of his boyfriend’s, gently, loosely, and closes his eyes.

The bottle hits the ground rolling. When it hits the wall the water shudders.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter plug](http://twitter.com/vanridgeway)


End file.
